


unmistakable

by famousclothmerchant



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Kinda, M/M, Nikandros puts up with a lot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/famousclothmerchant/pseuds/famousclothmerchant
Summary: Marriage is about compromise.  Starting with the wedding.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Kudos: 56





	unmistakable

Everyone in the room turns when the door opens and Laurent sweeps in, but only Damen gets jabbed in the neck for it. "Apologies, Exalted," the tailor mumbles insincerely around his mouthful of pins, "but as I have said, if you would _remain still_..."

Damen grits his teeth and does not move his head to track Laurent as he paces in and out of Damen's vision. The tailor continues folding and pinching and stabbing yet more pins into the stiff collar of the Veretian-style jacket. The few servants in the room are awkwardly dodging, trying to stay out of Laurent's way while he stalks from the window, back to the door, to the bed, to the window again, before finally crossing to the table near the hearth. Laurent does nothing so ungraceful as slouch, but he does sit down more decisively than usual before snatching up one of the many parchments -- guest lists and registers of which dignitaries are housed where and who sent what gift. He frowns at what he reads and picks the quill from the inkwell, crossing through some of what's written and beginning to annotate the rest forcefully. 

"That's enough for now," Damen says, stepping down from the tailor's block and starting to loosen the jacket's thousand laces.

"Exalted, I must insist --" the tailor protests, but Damen raises an eyebrow and blithely shrugs out of the jacket. The tailor catches the coat as it's pulled off Damen's shoulders by the weight of the ludicrous attached cape.

"We can finish tomorrow," Damen says, drawing the tailor by the elbow towards the door while he fumbles to gather up the trailing fabric. The servants, at least, have gotten the hint and are close behind, heading out into the hall. Damen has a quick word with Theomica and shuts the door firmly behind the departing mass.

Laurent's hair is down around his shoulders and very slightly disordered, like he’s been running his hands through it. Damen pulls up a chair at the table, sighing when he realizes he’s still wearing the excessively ornate gold-embroidered pants that match the cape. "This is getting slightly out of hand," Damen says. 

Laurent doesn't look up from his writing. "What's out of hand is that I asked for these arrangements to be made three weeks ago and _no one_ has been assigned the correct quarters," he mutters darkly. As he dips the quill back into the inkpot Damen puts his hand over Laurent's, loosening Laurent's fingers. Laurent’s hand abandons the quill and allows himself to be distracted. His shoulders drop and he grips Damen's hand, still staring down at the parchment. 

"What's wrong?" Damen asks, watching Laurent closely. 

Laurent is silent for a long time, bracing his other elbow on the table and resting his forehead on his clenched fist. "I don't know if I can do this," he says, and swallows. The corner of his mouth is turned down and his lips are pressed together tightly.

Damen tilts his head. "Fix the guest quarters?"

Laurent grates out a laugh. "No, I mean -- the wedding." Damen leans back a little, surprised. "I don't think I can bear it. I can't just --" He pushes back from the table abruptly, shaking loose from Damen and standing, bracing his hands on the edge of the table and taking a deep breath.

"Well," Damen starts, and stops, at a loss. "This was --"

"_I know_ that it was my idea," Laurent says, parchments crumpling under his curling fingers. "It is a perfectly advantageous -- it's the only logical --"

"It was a very good plan," Damen says, standing beside Laurent and gently resting his hand low on Laurent's back. "It's an excellent political maneuver --"

"--yes, _exactly_," Laurent says bitterly.

"-- but we don't have to do it if you'll be unhappy," Damen finishes.

Laurent stares at him as if he had just announced his intention to hold court standing on his head. "Our position with the Veretian nobility is far too precarious to just --” Damen shrugs. He knows the support of the older, wealthier Veretian contingent would make things easier, especially since the manumission of all Akelion slaves dampened their popularity among certain Akelion nobility. “Guests are _already here_," Laurent continues. "Of course we have to have the wedding!"

At the quiet knock, Laurent transfers his exasperated glare from Dament to the door. "Sit. Sit down," Damen says, waving Laurent back into his chair. He unlocks the door and accepts the tray from Theomica before dismissing her.

Laurent has his head in his hands and peers at Damen through his fingers as Damen sets the tray down and begins to pour the tea. "I don't know why I find this so troubling," Laurent says. "I -- what is that?"

"It's for your head," Damen says, sliding him a cup and pouring one for himself. "And it's fine, Laurent. We have other options."

Laurent gives him a narrow look but sips the tea without protest, which fills Damen with a subtle smug glow. "If you don't marry her, you'll have to give the baby back," Laurent says, and that does sting. Damen focuses on setting the teapot down and exhales the instinctive wave of grief. It’s probably true -- the point of the wedding is to legitimize the infant, after all, and at least attempt to pacify the Veretian elders who would be outraged by a bastard heir. 

"That's fine," Damen manages, after a moment. He clears his throat and takes a drink of tea.

"It's not," Laurent says, pushing his hand through his hair. "I just --"

"What is it that's bothering you?" Damen asks, petting Laurent's back. "You know it's not -- I'm not really marrying Kashel. Well, I mean, I am, but -- I'm not going to -- you know."

Laurent huffs, exasperated. "This isn't about _sex_," he says. "You could -- breed with every Vaskian village every year for the next twenty years --"

"breed?" Damen mumbles, his eyebrows rising.

"--I don't _care_. I don't --" he takes a gulping breath. "I can't sit there and smile while you stand up in front of ten thousand people and -- and _pledge yourself_ and your life to Kashel."

Damen can't help it; he starts laughing, helplessly, trying to muffle it behind his hand. 

"It's not funny!" Laurent protests, his eyes alight and so absolutely, righteously furious. Damen feels terrible but he still cannot stop laughing.

"No -- you're right, you're right," Damen gasps out. "It's only -- remember when you stood beside me in Fortaine, in the pavilion with all our armies, and I put that cuff on your wrist," Damen nods at Laurent's arm, where the gold cuff is hidden under his long sleeve. "And this year, when we were coronated beside one another at Marlas, and sat beside each other on two thrones."

"I remember," Laurent says.

Damen looks at him, heart soft with fondness, feeling himself smile. "Laurent, no one will mistake what it means for me to marry Kashel -- that it is done so that Vere and Akielos can have an heir." Damen bites his lip and continues. "No one will mistake what you and I mean to one another."

Laurent turns his cup around twice, three times. "I know it doesn't -- doesn't make any sense for me to be so upset," he says quietly. "But I hate it. I will bear it--" he looks up, jaw tight, "but I will hate it."

Damen takes Laurent's face in his hand. "I think I have another idea," he says, and kisses Laurent on the forehead before heading for the door.

"Damen," Laurent says. Damen turns, questioning. "Perhaps -- put on something else?"

"I honestly am not sure how to get out of these pants," Damen admits, and it's Laurent's turn to laugh at him.

\-----

The wedding of Kushel, Second Clanswoman to the Vaskian Empress, and Laurent, King of Vere and Aquitart, Prince Consort of Akielos, was spoken of for many years as a beautiful wedding, held on the steps of the Summer Palace in Akielos before a crowd of thousands. The Lady Kushel was regal and slightly terrifying in a red dress trimmed in leopard fur, and King Laurent wore an extremely long red and gold embroidered cape. Its excessive length inspired a fashion for floor-sweeping cloaks and long trains which lasted years. For some reason, King Damianos found this amusing, and could be heard to often comment to Laurent that they were keeping the renowned cloth merchants in good business. (The style came to an abrupt end two years later when the Crown Prince was old enough to chase after and grab the long trails of cloth.) King Damianos stood beside Laurent holding the infant Crown Prince, occasionally getting caught making faces at the baby instead of paying attention to the ceremony. 

The feast after the wedding lasted for days and swiftly passed into legend and myth; mostly because many of the guests could not themselves remember exactly what happened, instead telling improbable stories of revelry. What was certain was that after Makedon and Halvik met, they decided to mix _griva_ and _hakesh_, and it was downhill from there. Everyone insisted it was extremely enjoyable and that they, of course, had kept their wits the entire time, but did you hear about what Pallas did on the third night--

Now, of course, some older Veretian nobles had insisted that even the wedding could not legitimize the Lady Kushel's infant son, who had clearly been conceived nearly a year in the past. And besides, they claimed, the Crown Prince was unmistakably Damianos's son, so a marriage between Lady Kushel and His Highness Laurent only made this more of a farce, and one carried out in full view of every kingdom at that. But there was enough food and pastry -- and, most importantly, wine and _griva_ \-- at the wedding that even the most sour of the Veretians were pacified enough to admit that the Crown Prince was extremely adorable and probably did not threaten the future of Vere any more than anything else that had happened in the last two years. 

("So how did you do it?" Nikandros asked, sitting beside Damen at the feast and holding the baby Charls so Damen could quickly devour a plate of food. Charls was smacking his palms against Nikandros's face. "I wouldn't have thought Kushel would change her mind."

Damen shifted in his chair and didn't look Nikandros in the eye. "I agreed to a trade with the Vaskian Empress."

"He agreed to serve at the coupling fire for the next five years," Laurent broke in, leaning over to steal a roll from Damen's plate.

"Bah!" baby Charls said, whacking a chubby fist into Nikandros's slack jaw.)


End file.
